Road Rovers Rebooted 01: Crash Course
by Omnitrix 12
Summary: When a machine with the power to reconstitute living organisms falls into the wrong hands, Professor Shepherd must place the fate of the world in the hands of an untrained team... of dogs. Reborn as the Road Rovers, Hunter, Colleen, Exile, Blitz, and Shag must master their new powers and Shepherd's technology in order to - what else? - save the world. Let the party begin.
1. Chapter One: Double Double-Cross

****Prologue****

 ** **If you're reading this, you were probably a fan of the old Road Rovers cartoons from the 90s and wish that it had continued. When we – that is, Omnitrix 12 and Rogue Rover – first began writing Road Rovers fan fiction, we both did so with that intent. However, it came up that a lot of people knew nothing about the original series, and that even its most ardent fans think it could have been better done. So we decided, instead, to go with a reboot. We have done our best to preserve the spirit of the original characters within reason, but changes have been made to them and the nature of the material in efforts to produce a more well-thought-out concept, deeper plots, and more interesting entertainment overall.****

 ** **With that said, please read – and keep us in mind if you find someone who's out of the loop. If this doesn't exactly show Road Rovers as it was, perhaps it will show what it could have been.****

 ** **Last but not least, if you really want a good mood for this chapter please feel free to put the Imperial March from Star Wars on a loop. _Be Prepared_ and (of course) _Legend of the Dog-Man_ also work well, but may be more distracting as they have lyrics. These songs and dramatization of Edgar Allan Poe's _The Raven_ were used in writing and editing of this chapter.****

* * *

Sunset fell over the sprawling New Mexican desert, casting long shadows from the tall cacti as a massive army truck thundered along the road towards a large compound outside the neighboring city of Socorro. The compound in question was Shepherd Laboratory, a once-auspicious facility dedicated to research and development of technologies to benefit the future of mankind.

In the back of the vehicle were two people: a black-haired woman dressed in military fatigues, and a man in a suit which bore clear signs of several days' wear.

"Are you certain that your partner will keep his end of the bargain?" the woman asked in a crisp Scottish accent. She had a hard, resolute face and sharp eyes that sparked with cold intelligence.

The man replied with a decisive nod and a slight tremble, stifling the shame of a murderer bound for trial. "Shepherd is a man of his word. He'll keep his part of the deal." He glanced down at a large pet carrier, where a dog's whimpering could be heard from within. "Especially when his prized possession is on the table."

At the guard house located on the north side of the Shepherd Laboratory compound, a security guard reclined in his chair flipping through a magazine, plainly unaware of the behemoth vehicle barreling toward the security gate. Moving with juggernaut-like certainty and unwavering smoothness, the truck broke through the gate, yanking the guard's attention from his reading and toward the commotion outside the small shack. Rattled to his core, he watched as the large vehicle stormed off deeper into the compound. Then he scrambled for the silent alarm button, smacked it, and stopped again, staring after the truck. _I should do something,_ he thought with a pang of guilt sharp and cold as an icicle. His orders, however, had been clear about what to do if this happened. They had sounded so crazy he'd given them no weight, but they were clear. So, he deserted the booth and ran headlong towards a parking lot outside the compound, making for a brown unmarked jeep.

For a moment, he turned and looked back at his post and at the laboratory of the man he'd worked for years.

"Heaven help you, Professor," he uttered before getting into the jeep and making a hasty getaway.

Heedless of the guard's flight, the truck wove among the various buildings.

* * *

Inside the main research laboratory building was a large room cluttered with computers, diagrams, and laboratory equipment. Along one wall was a cork board that featured detailed technical drawings pertaining to Project 18: an endeavor which could have been the greatest step for mankind since the discovery of the smallpox vaccine. Also on the board were several pieces of paper with pictures of various dog breeds, and detailed notes about five in particular. In the back of the office was a large rectangular window that overlooked the main research lab on the lower level. Sitting in front of the window was a wooden desk, and sitting at the desk was a man with rapidly graying brown hair and eyes wide with sleepless fear. His lab coat was marked: Shepherd.

Working feverishly under a brow damp with cold sweat, Shepherd hunched over the keyboard to make his final alterations on a set of blueprints on the screen. He stopped typing for a brief moment before getting up from his seat. Stepping away from the desk and toward the window to look at the main research lab, he ran a weary hand through his hair as he contemplated the ordeal ahead.

It was Jeff's fault; Jeffery Otitus, his business partner. The man had made a Faustian deal to keep their project alive, and Professor Shepherd's worst fears had come calling with reinforcements. He had certainly realized what the technology might do if it fell into the wrong hands, and had taken every measure he could think of to stop it. Yet, he had never expected them to take his dog.

Despite his weariness, he shook his head and dropped back into the chair. He had to finish. He didn't trust Parvo to honor their deal, but he had no choice. He had to get Scout back, even if it meant risking the world.

 _ _But if I'm going to do this, I'm hedging my bets,__ he resolved. He continued to peck away at the keys, altering the plans. He had already sabotaged the machine; altered several formulae vital to its function and rearranged portions vital to the function of the whole. Maybe – maybe – he could make them of no use without Parvo's notice. He struggled to finish, squinting at the screen through bleary eyes.

Like the clanging of an alarm clock, an electronic buzz from the intercom on his desk jolted him upright. He looked at it half-stupidly for a moment, and then a cold dread swiftly warming to white-hot panic took hold of his chest.

"No!" he gasped in a terrified whisper as he looked at the clock on the wall. "No, no. It's too soon. I'm not done!"

Racing through a few final changes, he printed the documents. __Please let it be enough,__ he thought in a silent prayer which seemed to strike a ceiling of brass and reverberate down to his fevered brain. Once all of the documents were printed, he shuffled them into the briefcase before rushing out of his office.

Clutching the briefcase close to his chest, Shepherd hurried down the stairs. The only thought in his mind at that moment was to get this ordeal done with and – God willing – get his dog back at last. Upon exiting the stairwell, he made his way toward the main research laboratory. Keeping close to the wall, he peered around the corner and watched as the A2 slowly backed into the loading dock to receive its waiting package. He held the briefcase tighter to his chest as the vehicle's engine died, signaling that he had reached the point of no return.

"William!"

Hearing the voice of his former partner, Shepherd closed his eyes and took a deep breath, steeling himself for the upcoming encounter. Releasing his breath, he walked out into the main research laboratory. The sight of the man he had so trusted awoke him, and somehow his system found enough adrenaline for a spike of anger.

"Where's Scout, Jeffery?" he demanded. His question was instantly answered by a dog's plaintive barking. It came from a carrier wheeled by a female figure descending from the vehicle. His eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in bitterness when he saw her face.

 _ _I should have known,__ he thought. Yet he only had time for that one thought as the woman was followed by a much larger and more imposing personage.

"Good evening, professor," a large intimidating man greeted with a smirk as he climbed out of the front of the truck. He walked with a very slight limp from an old injury, but he exuded power and ruthlessness that could cow a man of twice his vitality. His face was as cold as ice and adorned with a yellow mustache. He stretched out a hand as if beckoning for some gift. "Where's the prototype?"

It was hard for anyone who really knew General Parvo to stand in his presence and not feel a shudder of dread and revulsion. It was like meeting Dracula; unimposing and even charming to a stranger, but the epitome of evil to the initiated. Willing his suddenly watery limbs to be firm, Shepherd gestured toward the tarp-covered object. "It's underneath that tarp, next to the forklift."

"Excellent," the general replied with a nod. He gestured to his cohorts. "Groomer. Ramirez. Load the prototype."

The woman and another man, who climbed down from the driver's side of the truck, saluted and made their way toward the location of the prototype. Ramirez climbed into the forklift and started it up as Groomer guided her partner into position.

It raised bile in Shepherd's mouth to give his work over to his man, but there was no turning back. "Alright Parvo, we had a deal," he demanded, pointing an accusing finger. "Now, give me back my dog."

Parvo chuckled at Shepherd's tenacity. "Certainly – just as soon as I get what I want." He relished the moment's hesitation on the scientist's face. A moment's hesitation, and the professor threw the case at Parvo's feet.

"You made a very wise decision, Shepherd," the man said as he bent down to retrieve the briefcase. "Project 18 will be in good hands and will be used to its utmost potential."

 _ _As a weapon of mass destruction,__ Shepherd thought with a shudder. He had meant the machine to heal the world, but with Parvo's intentions…with his intentions, he could conquer the planet in only a decade.

Groomer approached the general and saluted. "General Parvo, the prototype is loaded and safely secured on the vehicle."

Pleased with the successful transfer, Parvo drew a key from his packet for Shepherd to see and made to throw it but stopped. Using his other hand, he snapped his fingers. In an instant, Groomer and Ramirez drew guns and pointed them at Shepherd and Otitus.

"What?!" cried Jeffery, drawing back in fear. "Parvo! This wasn't part of the plan!"

"Hands up," Groomer snapped. "This minute, if you don't mind."

Shaking, Jeffery swallowed and raised his hands.

"Plans change, Jeffery," Parvo replied with a throaty chuckle before turning his attention to the professor. "I know your type, Shepherd. You would have altered the plans and the prototype ahead of our arrival, just to slow us down. While I do applaud your effort, you're coming with us to perfect Project 18." Then he turned to Otitus. "As for you, I'm very grateful for your help, of course, but…"

A human eye could scarcely track the blow as Parvo backhanded his lackey across the face, throwing him to the ground. "You served your purpose. Groomer, with me. Ramirez, take the mutt and the professor to the back and keep an eye on him."

"Yes sir!" Ramirez retrieved the dog carrier and kept his handgun pointed at Shepherd. "You've heard the general. Move it!"

Once Shepherd and Ramirez were on board the truck bed, Ramirez rapped the back window three times, signaling Groomer that everyone was on board and that they were ready to go. The massive engine roared to life and began to pull out of the main research laboratory.

* * *

On the floor of the lab, Otitus slowly rose with his nose running red and his ears ringing from the blow he had taken. General Parvo might have left active duty years ago, but a strike from him was like taking a cinderblock to the face.

As he staggered to his feet and braced himself on a table, Jeffery thought of the conversation he'd had with Professor Shepherd some months before.

 _"_ _ _William, our money supply is running short," he informed his partner, pacing around Shepherd's office.__

 _"_ _ _I quite aware of the situation, Jeffery," Shepherd replied calmly as he took a sip of his coffee from his mug. It had been inevitable that the research would be controversial in the scientific community, and that animal rights advocates – whose intentions were better than their understanding – would make a fuss. Even some religious groups, which seldom got involved in military research, had started protests. Really, it was no surprise that their backers had dropped out, and he said as much to his partner.__

 _ _Otitus spread his hands in supplication. "Then why, pray tell, would you even pursue Project 18 if this was bound to happen?" he asked, plainly at the end of his wits.__

 _ _Professor Shepherd shook his head. He knew that Jeffery was a very practical man and would likely never understand his ideals. He tried to put it in business terms, hoping that would get the point across.__

 _"_ _ _Think about all of the unwanted dogs in the world," he ventured. "Dogs living in the streets, fighting over scraps, or waiting in pounds to be put to sleep." He reached down to scratch the head of his beloved Rottweiler. "They could be more, Jeffery; so much more. With this research, we can have better police dogs who could pick up scents and evidence and inform their partners directly. Service dogs could understand people's needs and meet them in ways never before imaginable. For thousands of years, man has relied continually on dogs for help, protection, and companionship – and with this technology, we could take it in a few years beyond all it's accomplished in those millennia."__

 _"_ _ _Sounds great," said the businessman doubtfully, "but it's not going to happen without cash. We both know that."__

 _ _Shepherd sighed as he reclined in his office chair. "I'm afraid you're right about that. I was so certain this was the right choice, but with our backers withdrawing their support, I may have to re-think all of that."__

 _ _Otitus coughed. "Well, there is another way to get the necessary funding."__

 _Shepherd's pulse spiked. He knew what Otitus was getting at. "_ _ _Absolutely not," he said, sitting straight in his chair and looking directly at his partner. "If we're going to get money, we need to do it ethically and legally."__

 _ _Why didn't I listen?__ thought Otitus as he finally became master of his limbs again. He had gone behind the professor's back; betrayed him…and then been betrayed in turn. In the past few weeks of deception and double-dealing, he had felt indignation with his new boss for using him to manipulate the old, and with the professor for being such an idealistic fool. In that empty laboratory, a new feeling came over him: guilt. Shepherd had __trusted__ him, and he had used and betrayed the man even as he himself was deceived. Now he had no partner, no money, and no golden future ahead.

That last was truer than he could have ever imagined.

* * *

As the M985 barreled down the road, Shepherd gazed anxiously out the back. _Where are we-?_

That was all he had time to think, for just then, an explosion erupted from what was now his former laboratory.

"What?!" he cried, gripping the truck's tailgate. He looked on in horror as blast after blast obliterated the building until it and even the ground under it collapsed in upon itself. All those years of research…gone, save for what was on that truck.

"A little cash goes a long way," Ramirez laughed at the distraught professor. Bribe a couple security guards to rig a building with explosive…easy peasy. Everyone'll think you did it to collect the insurance money…or, maybe, to get rid of your partner."

Claws of ice seemed to clamp around the scientist's heart. Jeffery had betrayed him, but… He shuddered and tried not to throw up.

Ramirez continued to laugh as Shepherd clasped at his scalp, lowering his head in utter dismay. From beside him, he heard his dog whimper from inside the carrier.

 _ _Scout,__ he thought, placing a hand on top of the carrier. The poor dog must be terrified.

"It's okay, boy," he whispered soothingly. "I'm right here."

His words didn't placate the dog. The whimpering continued, and Professor Shepherd turned hard eyes on the guard.

"Well, ain't that cute?" Ramirez taunted from his spot across from Shepherd. "Sorry to burst your bubble, professor, but your precious pooch was never in that carrier. It was just a recording."

That was all Shepherd needed to know. Lifting his feet, he thrust the dog carrier into the guard, startling him and making him drop his weapon. Then, grasping the tailgate of the truck, he vaulted over it and tumbled from the back of the moving vehicle.

"Hey!" shouted the guard, levelling his weapon.

Rolling on the dusty road for a moment, Professor Shepherd raced away from the truck as bullets sparked one after another off the pavement behind him. Ignoring bruises and cuts, he fled as one in a blind panic towards the only refuge in sight: a pile of rocks near the edge of a cliff.

"What the..!" Ramirez shouted as he retrieved his gun before spotting Shepherd running away from the truck. Banging on the window, he cried, "WE GOT A RUNNER!"

 _ _SCREE-EE-EEE!__ wailed the truck's tires as it came to a stop, flinging Ramirez against the vehicle.

Parvo popped his head out of the window. "Don't just lie there, you idiot! Shoot him!"

The solider was out in a moment, leaving his rifle behind and firing a pistol. His shots rained against stones as Professor Shepherd dove for the shelter. An instant later, a long and despairing cry rang out, echoing as its source plunged down the precipice.

"Blast!" cried Parvo as Ramirerz's voice crackled over the truck's radio.

"Sir, he's bought it now."

"I'm well aware of that, you idiot!" shouted the general, though as he was not pressing the button, the never reach its recipient.

"Now what, sir?" Groomer asked from within the cabin.

Parvo's open mouth issued a sound which was part sigh and part growl. "Knowing that he altered the blueprints and prototype, we at least have a starting point to continue his work – with your assistance, of course. Meanwhile, with him gone, there'll be no who could master the technology ahead of us…" He stopped for a minute to cough before continuing. "…and no one who could hope to counter us when the time comes to use it." He took the radio microphone off its hook. "In the meantime, better to tie up loose ends. Ramirez!" he ordered, squeezing the talk button, "Make sure he's out of the picture. Permanently!"

Ramirez, by this time, was standing at the edge of the cliff, leaning against one of the rocks and peering down at the crooked body of Professor Shepherd. With a sneer on his face, he pulled a grenade from his belt. "With pleasure, sir."

Extracting the ring, he dropped the explosive down after the body. Then, carelessly, he tossed the ring down behind it.

Not four feet away, on the opposite side of the same rock where Ramirez had braced himself, Shepherd winced at the explosion below. Moments later, he watched as the truck drove off with his research. Had the villains stayed to witness the debris, they would have wondered at the strange lack of blood amidst the mangled mannequin and destroyed speaker.

As the as the engine's rumble had faded into the distance, he reached into one pocked and withdrew his ID, tossing it over the cliff's edge to join his facsimile at the bottom. Reach into his other pocket, he pulled out a USB flash drive. Staring at it for a moment, he closed his fingers tightly around it before he ran off into the desert. The only things which saved him from total shock and despair were readiness, and the knowledge that if he didn't __stay__ ready…then the world would pay the price.

It had begun.

* * *

 **And there you have it. Not the longest intro, it's true, but this was based on a two-minute scene from the original cartoon's first episode, "Hit The Road." You fans of the original will notice we spiced it up a little and filled a plot hole or two (the show eventually revealed how Shepherd knew he'd be betrayed, but never gave any indication of how he escaped/survived the destruction of his lab.**

 **For those interested in particulars, the truck involved in this chapter is a** **Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck (HEMTT for short) M985 A2.**

 **Also, special thanks to Rogue Rover for co-authoring, and to ArmedKevin117 and everyone on the Facebook group "Road Rovers Resurrection!" who offered helpful input to get this project started. Pats on the back all around.**

 **Thank you for reading, and please feel free to Review, Follow, and Favorite.**


	2. Chapter Two: It Has Begun

Proofreading by Rogue Rover and ArmedKevin117.

 **The pines were roaring on the height**

 **The winds were moaning in the night**

 **The fire was red. It gleaming spread.**

 **The trees like torches blazed with light.**

 **The mountain smoked beneath the moon.**

 **The dwarves; they heard the tramp of doom.**

 **They fled their hall to dying fall**

 **Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.**

 **The Hobbit** **by J.R.R. Tolkein**

 **One Year Later...**

 **(That's Seven in Dog Years)**

In a tucked-away corner of Camden, Maine, off on a lonely portion of coast by the woods, stood a small white house with a brown roof built in the usual manner of small family homes. A dog's plaintive barking could be heard within.

"Rarararararararrr... rarf!" The source of the sound, a little yellow cocker spaniel, pawed anxiously at the door. Then she turned to her owner and whined out a plaintive, "Rrrrmmmm?"

The dog's owner – an older woman named Mrs. Fletcher – looked piteously at those soulful brown eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry, Fluffy," she said helplessly. The woman – old and arthritic though she was – walked her dog whenever possible, and always asked her home-maker to take the dog out for a jog when he stopped by. Fluffy, however, was used to running outside whenever she wanted as long as the sun was up.

Lately, however, the woman had become concerned. Word was that dogs had been disappearing all over for the past several weeks at an alarming rate. Phone poles and local bulletin boards were covered with notices. Rewards dominated the local Classified ads. Police had been on the case with no leads, and even some of their own dogs had turned up missing. No one knew what to make of it, but everyone was getting worried. In the past week alone ten dogs had vanished, including the local fire department's dalmatian and the police chief's pet bloodhound. Even the dogs that hadn't disappeared were acting strangely, as though they knew something was wrong.

Mrs. Fletcher sighed, still held by her dog's plaintive look. She knew there was no way for Fluffy to understand her concern, and that the dog was only used to being outdoors left to her own devices. Then again, the little spaniel had always come back before, and was pretty good about staying out of harm's way.

Besides, supper was almost ready. Surely Fluffy wouldn't go too far with that on the horizon.

At last she sighed. "Alright," she agreed, moving to the door. "Go chase a rabbit, but don't go too far. It's almost dinner time."

She opened the door, and the dog darted out.

Fluffy frisked to and fro, did her business, and sniffed all over the place. It wasn't long before she picked up the scent of a rabbit close by, and spotted it nibbling on a patch of clover.

"Rarf! Rarararf!" she yapped, charging down the hill.

The rabbit flicked up its ears and bolted, not even bothering to see the oncoming dog. Fluffy's heart raced as she pressed on its heels. She wasn't even concerned about catching it; this was fun!

The rabbit zigged and zagged towards the woods, then all at once disappeared into a tangle of shrubbery. Fluffy darted after it, only to get her collar caught on a twig.

"Rarararararf!" she yapped, outraged at this sudden twist of fate. She managed to pull herself free, but the rabbit was long gone. Fluffy groaned in annoyance, scratched herself, and started sniffing for a trace. Soon, however, a new smell caught her attention: something she had never smelled before. It was sort of like another dog, but different. She liked different, and she liked other dogs. With her nose to the ground, she followed the scent.

Alas, her knack for staying out of trouble had failed her at the worst possible time. She heard a rustling sound nearby, looked up, and saw a massive hairy animal coming toward her, covered with spots. Panic seized her as the creature – which had to be at least eight feet tall and as wide-chested as two body builders – fixed a pair of baleful eyes on her.

She turned and ran, but the beast was hot on her trail. She ran faster, ducking through small spaces, but the hairy thing just jumped over or plowed through everything like the whole forest was made of balsa wood and paper mache. Then, as she was ducking through a thicket, it made a great leap and thudded to the ground, with its clawed feet on either side of her. A huge hand came down and pinned her to the forest floor.

A half-hour later, the woman was just fixing her dog's dinner when a terrible roar broke the silence and seemed to shake her very house. She jumped, dropping the bowl.

"What was that?" she asked in amazement. Then a pit of terror seized her. "Fluffy? Fluffy!" She ran to the door, fearing in the depths of her soul that whatever made that sound had gotten her dog.

The truth was much, much worse than she could have guessed. The sound had _come_ from her dog.

* * *

As the coming night fell, a scene unfolded from the quiet town's worst nightmares. From the woods near the town came a chorus of blood-curdling howls unlike any beast had ever uttered in the history of the world. People fixing supper and those getting out late from work looked up toward the hills from whence the sound had come.

At first nothing seemed to stir in the shadow of the woods. Then, a portion of that shadow seemed to detach itself and move toward the town – but what at first looked to be a shadow soon proved to be far more dangerous. Gleaming fangs, burning eyes, and terrible howls and roars heralded the approach of a mass of hulking figures storming down from the forest. It looked at first glance like an army of Sasquatch, but these beasts had claws and the heads of dogs.

Screaming in terror at the sight, people raced inside or scrambled for whatever cover they could find: trees, rooftops; anything. One man, caught with the brutes close enough to recognize as specific breeds in the moonlight, darted under a truck parked nearby. Then he screamed in terror and fled as one of the brutes, which looked like someone had crossed a werewolf and a bulldog, tipped the truck over and roared down at him.

People screamed, and many ran for their guns. Most who did retreated indoors and took aim from upper windows, but their bullets hardly seemed to even faze the creatures. On they marched like so many juggernauts, picking up and throwing aside anything that stood in their path. Cars flew into homes, and people were hurled onto rooftops with barely a second thought.

The police had never faced such a threat, but they rallied to form a barricade with cars parked and guns at the ready.

"Prepare to fire," ordered the police chief, trying to muster his own courage in the face of this nightmare. It was like something out of a movie; an army of werewolves. He stood on the roof of a cruiser with a bullhorn to his lips.

"I don't know what you are," he called out, "but I order you to stop where you are or be fired upon."

The beasts did halt, and a helmeted figure emerged from among them. Whereas the brutes ranged from eight to twelve feet tall, this man was clearly just that – a man. He bore himself, however, with cold self-assurance.

"Commendable response, officers," he called, "but we're on a schedule and there's no stopping my pets. Step aside and let us through."

The chief scowled. "Who do you think you are," he asked, "telling us to move?"

The figure thumped a fist to his chest. "I am the master of these creatures… and very soon, of the world."

"I don't care if you're a Master of the Universe," snapped the police chief. "Tell your whatever-they-are to put their hands up."

The man laughed derisively and vanished among his forces in a moment. The only token he gave was a single order.

"Attack!"

"Fire!" cried the chief, scrambling down to relative safety behind the cruiser on which he stood.

The police put up a bold struggle, but their defense fell apart and most of them scattered as the mutants waded into their barricade, treating the cruisers with no more regard than they had treated the other cars. Th bravest of the officers were battered as if _they_ were the disorganized mob, and the police chief found himself face-to-face with a baggy-jowled monster which, for an instant, he recognized as his own missing dog.

"Rex?"

The brute barely hesitated before knocking him on the head, and then the chief knew no more.

* * *

Far away in an underground fortress, a lone man witnessed the events in horror.

"Impossible," he gasped. "This soon... it's just not possible."

"Negative," the computer's vaguely female voice replied. "Analysis confirms presence of cano-sapien life forms. Logic dictates that anything which happens..."

"Yes, IRIS, I know," the man replied, pushing a bit of hair back into the unkempt mass that decorated his head. The entirety of said hair had been prematurely whitened by shock, adding to the eeriness of his eyes, which had taken on a mysterious glow. He shifted his gaze to another monitor and hesitated.

"It's too soon," he uttered. "I haven't had the chance to run a test yet. IRIS, what are the chances that the authorities can handle this?"

The computer paused, then answered. "Once the army arrives, approximately forty percent."

He drew in a hissing breath through his teeth. Getting the army deployed could take days, especially if politicians got involved. That was much too long to wait for forty percent. "That's not good. What about the chances of the program working on the first try?"

"Ten percent."

Professor Shepherd's heart sank, but the next question demanded to be asked. "Chances of casualties if the authorities aren't helped?"

"One hundred percent."

Well, that pretty much tore it. "Initiate launch sequence now."

Somewhere in the bunker, machines whirred in response to the computer's electronic commands. Five miniature aircraft prepared for launch.

"Please provide voice command code for final launch," IRIS requested.

Professor Shepherd answered with four words.

"The time has come."

Five small planes launched, taking with them the hopes of the free world.

* * *

Half a world away, in the wastes of Siberia, a wolf pack roamed the snowscape in search of food. They were growing desperate; they had not eaten in days, and their bellies gnawed with hunger.

Suddenly, one of their number – a husky, rather than a wolf – sighted something in the sky and barked. The others all looked up as a shining object descended like some strange spacecraft.

The pack ignored it at first, but when a loud crack boomed through the skies above, they looked again and scattered. The husky, separated from the rest, ran for whatever cover he could find, but the craft seemed to follow him.

Then, as it reached the ground, the husky's ears pricked up. He heard a strange whistling sound coming from the machine, and a voice saying a name he had not heard in a long time.

"Exile, you are needed."

The husky suddenly felt no fear of the strange object as it settled into the snow and opened up. With a few tentative steps, he walked up to it. Following the whistling sound, he stepped inside.

The craft closed, and shot toward the stars.

* * *

In a back alleyway in London, a rough collie was scrounging in the garbage for scraps. Her brown and white fur had once been splendid and silky, but it was now coarse and matted from long neglect. Her belly, on the other hand, was doing well; the streets offered ample food if one knew where to look.

As a case in point, she had just overturned a garbage can and found a massive bone within; undoubtedly the femur of a horse. It was old and worn, but still looked to have some good chewing in it – and perhaps marrow if she could get it open. She had just picked it up when menacing growls sounded behind her. She turned to see two other strays zeroing in on her prize.

With a mind born and bred for sizing up livestock and predators alike, she took in her attackers: both bristling and muscular.

 _Easy pickings._

The first one lunged, jaws aimed squarely for her face. The collie leaped to one side, leaving the attacker to crash into the garbage. He scrabbled for footing in the slippery mess, and she easily knocked him away.

The second stray came charging at her like the Hound of the Baskervilles come to life. Without missing a beat, the collie rolled onto her back as if in surrender. Instead of yielding, however, she caught him in the neck with her back paws, using his momentum to throw him over her head to a crash landing against a brick wall.

The dogs both got up growling, but the collie bunched her fur and seemed to double her size. Suddenly a rushing sound came from overhead, and all three looked skyward as a strange craft, like the one the husky had seen, came down among them. The two bigger dogs fled, and the collie had just started to run when she remembered the bone she had left in the alley. No one, and nothing, would cheat her of a prize like that; not after she had fought to keep it. She darted back in hoping to get back out, but turned to see the vehicle blocking her way. Doors opened on its front side, and a voice within told her, softly and gently, "Colleen, you have been chosen."

Collen regarded the strange craft, then slowly entered to examine it. Like the first, it closed behind her and launched toward the sky.

* * *

In a field in Switzerland, a large white sheepdog paced anxiously. His stomach growled, and his mouth loosed whine after piteous whine. He had been brought to that country to fulfill the hereditary office of his breed, but after a ewe was injured and suffered a miscarriage on his watch, he was left outside without dinner as punishment. So it was that he found himself out alone, cold and hungry.

Across the sky streaked a light, descending on a hill nearby. The sheepdog looked at it in wonder, and his curiosity grew when the object, which seemed to have landed, grew brighter still and gave off an enticing whistling sound.

"Rrr?" he whined.

"Shag," came a voice from within, "You must come."

Shag took a few steps toward it, then stopped and looked back at his home as a growl from his stomach reminded him of his food bowl.

"Shag, now!"

Shag wavered until an enticing aroma came from the vehicle, mastering his hunger and drawing him on. He followed the smell of food into the craft, and was taken in an instant.

"I'm sorry, Shag," said the voice. "I'll make it up to you later."

* * *

In a junk yard in Germany, two teens slipped quietly up to an old, battered car on top of a heap of other garbage.

"You sure about this, man?" asked one, glancing around nervously. "I mean, I heard what happened to the last guys who came in here."

"Stop whining," said the other. "The place is between managers, and I saw them taking the dogs outta here three days ago after the old man died. Now get the sound system."

The reluctant one opened the door, which creaked and swung uneasily on its hinges as if it might come loose.

"I don't think we're gonna get much outta this car," he remarked. "Looks like my aunt's daschund could blow it down, never mind the Big Bad Wolf."

"Get the dogs off your brain already," snapped his friend, talking so loudly that the footsteps approaching behind him were totally inaudible. "If it's a little loose, that'll just make it easier to strip it for parts."

A long tongue flicked over pointed teeth, and a low growl sounded unnoticed except by the same that gave it.

"Now pop the hood and get started pulling out the sound system. Parts on this model sell for AHHH!"

The speaker jumped in the air, stumbled on landing, and tumbled down the pile clutching his backside.

"Hey, what the-?!" cried his partner just before a lean brown-and-black shape pounced up onto the hood to snarl at him through the broken windshield.

Apparently, the authorities had missed a dog.

"Eh heh heh heh," chuckled the punk in barely contained terror. "Uh, listen, pooch, I didn't even want to be here, so- no; no, nice doggy..."

The next few moments were a cacophony of screams and snarls, and then the battered teenager made a mad dash out of the car, racing so quickly across the heaps of garbage that his feet hardly seemed to hit the ground.

The doberman chased him to the hole he and his partner had cut to get in, tearing a massive strip out of the teen's pant leg in parting. The other, battered and cut from his fall, dashed up a pile in the opposite direction and vaulted over the fence.

 _Daht's right. Run away, girlie-mahn! Dis is Blitz's yahd!_ sneered the doberman in his thoughts. Or at least, that was the English version of what he was thinking. He stopped to bite at an itch in his side, growling his satisfaction.

A loud noise overhead caught his attention, and he looked up from his gloating to see a streak of light plunge toward the ground like a blazing comet. As it neared the earth, it rapidly decelerated to reveal a shape like a very squat yet very streamlined airplane.

Blitz instantly stood, bristling and snarling. "Hey!" he barked. "Go away! This is my yahd and you ah bothering me!"

Heedless of the doberman, the craft landed. "I said get out of heah!" snarled Blitz, racing at it as soon as its jets had ceased.

The plane did get out of there – after Blitz, charging headlong at this intrusion, found himself suddenly inside a cockpit which slammed shut upon him like a Venus flytrap, carrying him toward the unhearing sky.

"Hey! Hey, let me out of heah! Let me out now! Let me-!" Suddenly he got a look out the ground. "You'd bettah not drop me! You drop me and I will bite you so hahd!"

* * *

At a dog pound in New York City, two staffers strolled past a series of kennels, coming at last to two adjoining enclosures. In one, a yellow mixed-breed with clear traces of Labrador heritage wagged his tail, dashed to a corner of his kennel, and fetched a tennis ball which he pleadingly dropped at the gate.

"Do we have to do this?" asked one of them, a blonde woman.

The other, a man with brown hair, sighed dismally. "We tried to find him a home, Babs. I've got all the dogs my place'll take, and I know you'd have taken him weeks ago if you could."

That was true. Her apartment was barely big enough for a terrier, never mind a retriever.

He opened the door, carrying a collar and a coiled leash in one hand. "His time's up. Let's get this over with."

Hunter, the dog in question, made no fuss at first to being led through the halls. His calmness swiftly melted, though, as they drew near a part of the animal shelter which he had chanced to pass by on an 'unscheduled' walk. He had ended up near a certain door, and inside smelled the scents of cleaners, strange chemicals, and a dog... recently dead. He no more understood it than a caveman would understand a flying saucer, but ever since that day he had regarded that part of the building with horror.

Hunter drew back from the ominous door.

"Hey now, come on," urged the man. "It'll be over soon. Grab him, Barbara!"

The woman grabbed for the dog's collar, but the instant her fingers looped into that strap he went berserk. With a frantic twist, he wrenched her around and knocked her into her colleague.

"Yaaaoow!"

The leash slipped, and Hunter raced for the exit.

"Go! Get after him!" yelled the man as the two of them rose to their feet, chasing after the

Hunter tore through the halls, going faster and faster around or through the feet of passing staff, volunteers, and visitors. Cries of "Grab that dog!" echoed behind him, but he and his leash slipped through hand after hand like the wind. Hotly pursued, he entered the main area and rounded the front desk. The door was opening! He was free!

 **About a minute before…**

Outside the animal shelter, the guard from the New Mexican laboratory glanced at a photo in his hand. _Does he really think this_ one dog _is going to be_ right _here,_ right _now?_ he wondered.

It seemed like a fool's errand… but he was indebted, and if this was what was asked of him… well, so be it.

He opened the door.

"Grab him!"

"Arararar!"

The sight of a yellow blur shooting towards him startled him half out of his mind. Then again, the other half _was_ a soldier. With a quick move, he drew the door shut, catching the dog at the waist.

" _Aarrrr!"_ came a sharp, pained whimper. The fugitive looked up at him with sad and helpless eyes; very familiar sad and helpless eyes.

 _What?_ He glanced down at his hands, but found them empty. He looked around and found the photo lying on the ground at his feet.

 _That's crazy,_ he thought.

At that instant the dog was yanked back through the door with a yelp. Shaking off his surprise, the man pushed the door open.

"Hold it!" he shouted.

All eyes turned to him – and with the end of the chase, there were a lot in the room.

He stopped for only another instant to take in the absurdity of his position before pointing at the crowd's prisoner.

"I'm here for that dog."

* * *

Ten minutes afterward, the stranger left the animal shelter with Hunter frisking joyously by his side. The dog had no idea why or how the man had arrived at that moment, and really he didn't care. He was free! He had a master! The man even knew his name was Hunter!

He had no idea what he was in for.

Strolling to an isolated parking lot in back of a school that was presently closed, the man approached a large truck and drew out a remote. Hunter had seen cars opened like that before, or so he thought. When the man pressed the button, the whole back of the truck opened up to reveal a small, streamlined, plane-like object which rapidly unfolded a set of wings.

 _Cool!_ thought the mutt.

His rescuer led him up a set of steps built into one of the flaps which had unfolded from the sides of the truck. The plane's cockpit was open, and Hunter smelled dog biscuits inside. He looked up at his new master, as he supposed the man to be.

"In," came the command, and with a signal to back it Hunter jumped into the cockpit.

The man – the same who had guarded the ill-fated laboratory – patted the dog on the head. "Good luck," he told him, and pushed a button on his remote.

To the dog's confusion, the plane closed up around him and launched.

Closing up the truck again, the guard looked off after the rapidly vanishing craft. "I hope Professor Shepherd knows what he's doing," he uttered. If what he had heard about the events in Maine was true, that mixed breed and four others were mankind's last hope.

* * *

 **Chapter Two, folks. Could have made it longer, but I wanted to be sure we could keep on pace. In light of various issues such as work, other projects, and communication, this will probably be a chapter a month, consistently released on the 16th (barring any unexpected snags, of course).**

 **Fans of the original show will probably note that this chapter is a bit darker than the original version of these events; more like _Swat Kats,_ maybe, with implied-but-unseen casualties and some gunfire. Don't worry; the banter will come in the course of time. We also removed Muzzle, who in the series was brought along by Hunter, because we want to make his introduction into this storyline a bit more special. Also, with the way the Rovers got to HQ for the first time (which was never really explained in the cartoon), it would have literally been hard to squeeze him in.**

 **Speaking of squeezes and arrival, the planes mentioned here are somewhat based in reality. As of 2014, the world's smallest aircraft with a jet engine was the home-built Bede BD-5J Microjet owned by Juan Jimenez of San Juan, Puerto Rico, USA. Being about as long as a car with a 17 ft (5.7 m) wingspan, it weighed in at 358 lb (162 kg) and could reach speeds of 483 km/h (300 mph). This being based on a cartoon, I (Omnitrix 12) pictured something like the mini-plane in _Spy Kids,_ but hey, Professor Shepherd ran a company and figured out how to rewrite biology. I figure he could manage a smaller plane.**

 **To Spundreams: Thanks for pointing out that little detail. Yes, this story is set in modern times, though we'll probably be keeping a lot of the older pop culture references. Speaking of which, joke ideas welcome.**

 **Thanks a bunch for all the support! Stay tuned, and don't forget to fave and review!**


	3. Chapter Three: Orientation

**Punk 1: "We switch sides, and we might as well tie on the toe tags ourselves."**

 **Green Goblin: "I'm good with knots too. As for the Big Man, the party's over."**

 ** _Spectacular Spider-Man_**

Professor Shepherd watched as five small aircraft, guided by lasers and slowing to a halt supported by VTOL jets, landed side-by-side on a platform in an upper level of his new hidden laboratory. Monitors in front of the scientist showed him the dogs looking around in confusion. Fortunately, they all seemed to be unhurt by their flight.

 _Un_ fortunately, there wasn't time to take them gently to the machines which awaited them.

"Initiate emergency transfers," he told IRIS.

 _"Yes sir,"_ droned the computer's feminine voice. The planes – triggered by a remote signal from the computer – taxied up to five peculiar booth-like machines. _"Transferring canines."_

With a sudden pop, the cockpits shot open and the seats bucked like mad stallions, launching the dogs into the open booths. Shepherd winced. "Sorry!" he called softly.

Before the dogs could do more than stumble, the doors of each booth whirred shut. Hunter jumped around, trying to climb out or catch some scent from the container, but the glass-like walls yielded no traction; just the smell of strange chemicals and ozone. Blitz and Colleen both tried to fight their way out, with matching non-success. Exile stared in confusion, and Shag simply cringed at the strange confinement.

A ring of light rose up and down the inside of each capsule. _"Scanning canines."_

As he watched the procedure, Professor Shepherd was praying desperately that it would work. He also made a mental note to turn off the vocal part – or at least personalize it with the dogs' names.

 _"Transfiguration."_

A blinding light flashed inside the cylinders, and a moment later, a pair of doors on each one slid open.

Out of the first four stepped figures each about six feet tall, dressed in uniforms resembling blue jumpsuits augmented with white body armor. From the neck down, they looked almost perfectly human, but their heads were still almost completely canine, and there was nothing human about their tails. Professor Shepherd frowned; he hadn't meant for the tails to remain. He just hoped nothing else had gone wrong with the transformation – speaking of which...

There seemed to be a commotion inside the fifth cylinder as a big, white _thing_ tried to get loose. A moment later the machine split apart like a sardine can being opened and the occupant stumbled out: an eight-foot-tall creature resembling a yeti with a dog's snout. Neither was he wearing any sort of uniform, though thankfully his thick fur saved him from immodesty.

 _Perhaps I shouldn't have done such a rush job on the last transfigurator,_ thought Professor Shepherd, watching from the next room. Unfortunately, he had no time to worry about that detail. Almost as soon as they stepped out, the dogs tripped and fell flat on their faces with a unified "OW!"

Shepherd's stomach twisted. _Please let the neural reconfigurations work._

One of them – Hunter – rose to his hands and knees. "Whoa. Not used to the ground being so far a- hey, I can talk!"

"You can?" asked Blitz. Then his eyes popped. "Hey, me too! And ohh, look at me! I'm handsome!"

"What the bloomin' heck?" asked Colleen, managing to stand and staring down at herself. "How did I get this tall?"

Professor Shepherd tried to explain. "That would be because of the…"

The Rovers, however, were paying him no attention as they each rose to their feet. The good news was that it looked like the rewiring – meant to let them function as humanoids – was kicking in. The bad news was that they were totally unprepared to wrap their minds around their new abilities.

Exile rubbed his eyes as if the light in the room were too bright. "And why everything look so... colorful?"

Blitz finally took his attention off himself long enough to notice Colleen. His mouth spread into a hopelessly undisguised grin. "Ah you doing anyth-" his words were cut off as Shag, struggling to walk erect, stumbled into him. Shag uttered something in an unintelligible babble of half-human, half-dog sounds.

"Uh, anyone going to tell me what's going on here?" asked Hunter.

"I'd be happy to, Hunter, but there's not..." Professor Shepherd trailed off. They _still_ weren't listening. Hesighed. "Perhaps I should have considered cats. IRIS?"

IRIS obliged with a blaring siren and flashing red lights. All the dogs abruptly stopped talking and put their hands over their ears.

"Thank you, IRIS, that's enough," the Professor called.

The alarm shut off, and IRIS announced that it was downloading new alarm tones.

"I really need to fix her software," the professor murmured to himself before addressing his new 'recruits.' "Please forgive the confusion, Rovers, but there's no time to waste. My name is Professor Shepherd, inventor of the Transfigurator."

"You mean that thing that just rearranged us?" asked Colleen, spreading her arms. "Because that wasn't on my list of things I wanted to do today."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Hunter replied with a shrug. "I was just about to get deep-sixed at the pound."

Professor Shepherd struggled to stay calm. "Yes, Colleen, you are correct. My machine can re-arrange the structure of potentially any living creature. I used it to change your purely canine forms into, for want of a better term, cano-sapiens."

"Why?" asked Blitz.

"Several reasons," the professor answered evasively, "but the main one is because someone else forced my hand." A large screen came on behind him, showing helicopter footage of a troop of beasts storming a large office building. They looked like some horrible mixture of dogs, werewolves, and WWE wrestlers. As the Rovers stared, the view switched to a security camera showing two of the monsters ripping the door off of a laboratory, thundering in, and stealing a strange-looking device.

Shag immediately dropped to all fours and hid behind the others. Colleen frowned and rolled her eyes.

"Whoa," Hunter gaped. "Who's cleaning up after _them?_ "

The screen switched to another view of a small army of similar monsters. They marched through the streets of a large city, scattering cars, mailboxes, and even light poles like leaves in a wind storm.

Ahead of the mutants, a cluster of tanks moved into position, flanked by squadrons of soldiers. A captain at their head shouted through a bullhorn for the mutants to stop, but before the soldiers could do more than fire a few rounds, they were swarmed. In seconds, even the tanks had been flipped over. The Rovers watched in amazement as one of the massive vehicles, gripped by what had once been a Dalmatian and a cocker spaniel, was torn apart like a Styrofoam stage prop.

Hunter cringed. "So, uh, let me get this straight. You want _us_ to go fight _them?"_

Professor Shepherd nodded. "That's about the size of it. But you don't know-"

The Road Rovers all beat a hasty retreat back to the booths, fighting to get inside.

"Road Rovers!" Professor Shepherd bellowed, "Heel!"

"No wayski!" protested Exile, struggling to fend off Shag. "I am not fighting those things!"

"There are people in danger because of these monsters, and if they succeed then soon no place on the planet will be safe."

None of the Rovers liked the idea of facing creatures so menacing, but somewhere deep inside each of them, something stirred.

"Come again?" asked Hunter, pausing in mid-shove to look back.

Professor Shepherd's voice was grave. "If you don't stop these creatures," he told them, "people will die. No one on earth will be safe. Not you, and not anyone you know."

Hunter turned back, and so did Colleen. Exile wavered for a moment, then followed.

"Your risk," Professor Shepherd added, "won't go unrewarded."

Blitz hesitated a moment, then came and stood with the others. Finally, Shag gave up trying to get into the booth – either because of the professor's words or because he realized there was no way he could squeeze in anyway – and joined the rest.

"Very good," Professor Shepherd said, trying to stay calm. Time was short, and dissention in the ranks was not an option. "Should you succeed, you will have use of this base and all its facilities, three square meals a day, training to master your new bodies and abilities, and a carpet by the fire."

The Rovers talked it over among themselves. Hunter was about to say something for the group, but Blitz cut him off.

"Carpet by the fire? Change it to a sofa!"

"You will stay _off the sofa_ ," Professor Shepherd answered, his voice echoing.

Blitz cringed. "Okay, okay, the carpet's fine."

Softening a little, Professor Shepherd added, "And if you like, I will do my best to find each of you a home."

 _Home._ The word had a magical effect on every one of them.

"Count me in!" called Hunter.

"I'm up for it," added Colleen.

"Me also," Exile chimed in. "I almost forgotten what home is."

"Okay, okay," said Blitz. "So what exactly are we supposed to do?"

"And how do we take these blighters on?" added Colleen.

"I've used the transfigurator to give you human-level abilities – dexterity, intelligence, speech, and eyesight – while retaining your natural canine abilities such as smell and hearing."

"Is that why everything looks so strange?" asked Hunter.

The professor nodded. "I was hoping to give you a chance to adjust to color vision, and to all the other extras, but there's not enough time now. I've also elevated one natural ability for each of you to super-human – and super-canine – levels: Hunter's speed, Colleen's agility, Exile's vision, Blitz's teeth and claws, and Shag's strength and resilience. These, combined with your higher intelligence, should give you a chance against the cano-mutants."

"The what?" asked Exile.

"The creatures you saw on the screen."

"Oh," they chorused.

An alarm sounded, and Professor Shepherd's face took on a worried expression. "You'll have to use the pods that brought you here," he told them. "They'll be cramped, but there's no time to test your abilities with the other vehicles. Now go!"

The Road Rovers dashed to the pods and squeezed in; no easy feat, especially for Shag. As the pods closed, Shepherd's voice sounded through on-board intercoms. "I'll help you out as much as I can from here, but once you get to the train it's up to you."

Hunter struggled to reach the microphone and pressed the talk button. "Roger that, Master."

"I'm not your master."

"Yeah, but it's easier to call you that."

"Speak for yourself," Blitz put in.

Professor Shepherd didn't answer that. "Prepare to launch."

A moment later, five pods rocketed into the air. The scientist watched them go with an anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"God be with you," he uttered. "You'll need all the help you can get."

 **And there you go: the Road Rovers, in their new bodies and armed with new powers, against an army of cano-mutant juggernauts. Will they survive?**

 **Oh, who am I kidding? It'll take a miracle.**

 **So, thanks to everyone who helped with this chapter - particularly someone who answers to Refi-chan and volunteered to help me with Exile's lines. As you can see I'm not very good at writing in accents. On that line of explanation, btw, I did an informal survey and got the impression that most fans would want to see the original voice cast reprise their roles in the event of a reboot, so I'll be working with those voices in my head. Of course since this is purely written, you can imagine them with other voices if you like. I'll be adding some OCs later on, with their voices to be stated as they come up. I can't recall if I or anyone commenting had a voice in mind for IRIS (sorry; I pureed my brain yesterday over taxes and I'm still recovering), but your basic SIRI voice will do.**

 **Happy reading!**


	4. Chapter Four: Here Goes Everything

" **In the immortal words of the Great Confused One, 'When all else fails, scream!'"**

 **Flim-Flam,** _ **The Thirteen Ghosts of Scooby-Doo**_

Over the northeastern United States, five aircraft shot across the sky. Inside, the Rovers hunched in their seats – such as they were – and tried not to get giddy with the speed at which they were flying.

Well, most of them anyway.

"So, how's everyone's flight going?" asked Hunter over the radio.

"Let me put it this way," answered Colleen. "I've seen straightjackets roomier than this flyin' thingamabob."

"Ruh-ruhhh," groaned Shag, and through the cockpits of their planes the others could see his wobble.

Professor Shepherd's voice came over the radio. "Shag, I'm very sorry for the cramped flight, but please try not to move around. The stabilizers are running at maximum capacity to adjust for your weight as it is."

Shag groaned and let out a _"Mimimimi"_ whining sound.

"So, what exactly are we supposed to do when we get there?" asked Hunter.

"The cano-mutants have stolen a powerful gene-splicing device and hijacked a train to get it to their master," Shepherd reported. "Unfortunately, the train is full of hostages; otherwise the military could just blow up the tracks and make them wreck."

None of the Rovers liked that bit of news. "So there are mutant bad guys we want hurt," Exile interpreted, "but also people we should not."

Shepherd nodded, though of course they couldn't see him through the radios. "I'm afraid that's the size of it. I'll guide you as close as I can to the train. Once you land you'll have to get on board, secure the hostages, and above all, get that device or destroy it at any cost."

"Why are they needing device-ski?" asked Exile. He would have scratched his head, but the cramped cockpit hindered him from moving.

"I believe the machine that made them isn't fully functional yet. If I'm right, the mutation only lasts for a certain amount of time. However, if their leader manages to get that genetic stabilizer, the mutants will stay mutants indefinitely. He could-"

His next words were drowned out as Shag howled in terror through the radio. Looking out, the others could see his jet pod just pulling out of a sharp drop. It gained altitude slowly and painfully, but a second later dropped again.

"Shag!" yelled Hunter.

"Oh no, his engines are overloading!" exclaimed the professor, checking his monitors. "His pod's not designed to take that much weight.

Shag whined something in a strange mix of human and dog. Hunter was pretty sure he was asking if Weight Watchers would help, but there was no time to worry about that. He could see the train up ahead, but it was pretty easy to guess Shag's pod wouldn't make it.

Hunter hastily sized up his options. "Colleen! Exile!" he barked (so to speak) when he saw that they were the closest. "Can you reach your controls?"

Inside their vehicles, both of them grunted and strained to shift around. "Dah!" Exile cried. "I have the happy stick!"

"Joystick," Colleen corrected.

"Rovers, this is very dangerous," Shepherd warned them. "If you turn off the autopilot you might crash too."

"Dat doesn't sound good," Blitz pointed out.

"And if we don't?" asked Colleen.

No answer on that one.

Hunter thought again, knowing that every second lost could mean deaths. Blitz was the furthest out of the group, and from the brief time at the base the retriever suspected that he would also be the least willing to pitch in. Instead, Hunter struggled to reach his own controls. "I'm coming with you. Master, how do you fly these things?"

"Forward is down, back is up."

Hunter grasped his joystick as Shag's pod bucked again. There was no knowing how long he had, but it couldn't be much time. He spotted the autopilot switch. "You guys ready?"

Exile's voice was grim. "Ready as will ever be."

"Colleen?"

"I hope the airbags work."

Hunter took that as a 'yes' and reached for his switch. "Autopilot off in three, two, one…!"

 _Click._

The effect was immediate as his plane nearly dropped from the sky. He yanked back on the joystick and flipped upward with all the grace and style of a dive-bombing pelican. Closer to Shag, Colleen and Exile were having similar trouble.

"This is not very fun-ski!" cried Exile.

"Small adjustments!" Shepherd cried. "You have to control it! Don't overcompensate!" They were losing precious minutes, and Shag's engines – already in the red – were approaching total failure.

Painstakingly, the three Rovers managed to get some semblance of control and guide their planes over to Shag's.

"Colleen, you take his right wing," Hunter ordered. "Exile, left. I'll bring up the middle."

"Roger, Huntie."

 _Huntie?_ Hunter wondered. _What's up with that?_

"Roo-hoo," Shag whined.

"Sit tight, buddy. We've got ya." Hunter tried to sound more confident than he felt. If they messed this up, they would all crash and burn – literally.

Colleen and Exile managed to bring their wings up under Shag's. The planes shook and wobbled as the wings scattered one another's air currents, but they managed to settle into a kind of power-glide headed for the train.

"Aaand, moving in," Hunter announced, coming in underneath.

Unfortunately, no one had taken the time to explain to Hunter just how airplanes stayed airborne; how the air moving _over_ the wings created less pressure than the air _under_ the wings, basically sucking the planes upward. That worked as long as there was enough air on both sides, but when you put a solid object in the way…

He got his physics lesson the hard way. As he tried to get into position, his plane suddenly fell like a rock.

"Hunter!" shouted Exile.

"Hunterrrrrr!" cried Colleen.

"Yaaaaaah!" yelled Hunter.

* * *

Far away, in a stretch of seldom-visited forest, a helicopter waited by the tracks. Inside sat two figures: the massive, forbidding General Parvo, and his shapely assistant. They were watching a secured transmission of events back at their base, where some of their earliest mutants – back from the front lines as their time was too close to up – reverted to canine form.

"Ah'm sorry, General," Groomer offered seriously. "There was much about the transfigurator Shepherd never even told me."

He rumbled in his throat for a moment before answering. "No matter," he assured her. "Soon enough we'll have that deficiency worked out. It's a pity we'll never have mutants as powerful or versatile as we could have with his help, but I still have the makings of an army such as Stalin, Nero, and even Ghengis Khan could never have dreamed." He turned off the feed and smiled sinisterly. "Soon, all the world will call me 'Master.'"

Groomer checked her watch. "The train should be here soon," she reported. "Shall we check the remote cameras?"

Parvo shrugged carelessly. "The hostages will ensure that no one tries to stop it," he said confidently, "but why not?"

A few clicks brought up a series of cameras planted on the train, pointing in all directions to monitor for ground or aerial approach. Nothing showed up to the front or sides, but when he clicked through the cameras on top of the train…

"What's that?" asked Groomer.

Parvo zoomed in on five approaching objects; four clustering tightly together and one off to the side, all closing in on the train. A casual observer might have mistaken them for alien spacecraft, but he recognized the outlines.

"Fools!" he snapped. "Who would be crazy enough to send unarmed aircraft to stop me?"

Groomer picked up a microphone. "Shall I order them to blast the planes down?" she asked. The mutants had brought a few bazookas onto the train as a precaution.

Parvo stroked his chin and watched as three of the planes tried to catch one which was visibly faltering – and as, almost instantly, one of them dropped and crashed.

"That was unexpected," he mused. "Tell the mutants to get ready, but only fire if I say. Those aren't military pilots; something else is going on here."

In answer, she saluted and began to relay his orders with a quick, "Aye, sir." General Parvo was not a man to be questioned.

* * *

The Rovers watched with a sick feeling as Hunter's plane crashed into the trees. "Hunter!" Colleen started to swerve towards where he had dropped, but a howl from Shag reminded her that if she broke formation, he'd be next.

"Hunter?" called Shepherd over the comm. "Hunter, come in!"

A crackling voice answered. "O-kay, glad I got that one right."

"Hunter!" cried Exile. "What happened?! Are you Dokey-okey?"

Down among the trees, Hunter grunted as he pulled himself onto the branch from which he'd been hanging. "I'm okay, Exile. Managed to nail the Eject button."

"Thank goodness," uttered Shepherd. "Rovers, proceed with the mission – and hurry!"

To call guiding Shag's crippled plane towards the railway 'difficult' would be like calling the Titanic 'unsuccessful.' With their reduced speed and mobility, it was no surprise that Blitz's pod auto-landed ahead of them.

"Alright, you ugly mutated girly-dogs!" he shouted, jumping out onto the top of the train. "Come out and surrender before I get cranky!"

After a moment, a mutant half again as tall as he was emerged onto the top of the train car. Then came another… and another… and another.

"Oh, you think you so tough?" Blitz called, taunting the mutants. "Well I'll show you tough."

Without knowing how he did it, he extended a set of claws as long as his fingers, as sharp as razors, and as hard as steel. "Say hello to my little friends," he growled.

One of the mutants reached down between the cars and pulled up a bazooka. Blitz cringed at the sight of it.

"Oh, um, hello dere."

"Okay Colleen," Exile said, doing his best to control his plane. "Now go a little forward, I think."

"Roger. Um, how exactly do I do that?"

Exile caught sight of a blinking red light on his control panel. "Oh no. I hope light does not mean what I think it-"

A bang sounded under his plane as one of the engines quit.

"April Day! April Day! I am going down!"

No one had time to correct him as he broke off and Shag's plane tipped sideways.

"Shag!" cried Colleen as the sheep dog's pod fell sideways.

With only seconds to act, Colleen nosed down and cut off the dropping craft, ramming it towards the roof of the plane. "Come on, just a little…!"

Shag's pod dropped onto the roof of the train, tumbling over as the cockpit popped open. The sheepdog flopped out and scrabbled at the roof as his ride, thoroughly totaled, tumbled off the other side. Colleen's, meanwhile, landed with a _crunch_ on top of the train.

"Phew," sighed the collie, swiping a hand back over her face out of habit.

Suddenly a massive balloon of white fabric burst into her face.

"Aaand the airbags do work. Super."

* * *

Hunter reached the edge of the woods and saw Exile, with great effort, land his plane next to Colleen's as the whole kit and kaboodle disappeared into the distance.

"Master," he called, "can you hear me?"

" _Yes, Hunter. You have a communication link in your collar."_

"Oh, that's handy. So what am I supposed to do now?"

There was a pause. _"I'm not sure if you're faster than that locomotive, but you'll have to try to catch up."_

Hunter smacked himself in the forehead. "Oh, duh! Super-speed; right." He gathered himself, then paused. "Wait a second. Wasn't it some other guy who was faster than a locomotive?"

Professor Shepherd faltered. _"No… well, yes, but that's not..."_

"Uh, right. Duty calls. Here goes!"

Then he vanished in a cloud of dust.

 **As some of you older fans will see, I made a few tweaks in this version of the Rovers' approach to the train. Don't worry; the souped-up cars and jets will come along in good time. Let's just hope Hunter can get there in time, and find a way to deal with the added ante!**

 **Parvo's reference to Stalin is a deliberate touch on my part. During World War II, the Communist leader Joseph Stalin attempted to artificially cross-breed humans and apes to produce an army of super-soldiers. Despite the involvement of the world's leading expert at the time in cross-fertilization, the effort was (thank God) a complete failure and never produced so much as one hybrid embryo. Parvo's mutants, apart from being canine, are virtually everything Stalin hoped to accomplish.**

 **Guest:** I have to admit that altering Blitz's personality that much wasn't an easy call to make. lol In all seriousness, I do want to develop their personalities and have them progress as these stories unfold. For the moment, having him go all Johnny Bravo (by the by, am I the only one here who just plain hated that show?) on Colleen felt like it would diverge too much from the plot. It's only fair to warn you that it will probably come up later, but at least in this version the others will probably cut him some slack at first before Colleen starts… well, you know the drill.

 **Thanks again for reading and reviewing. Keep 'em coming!**


	5. Chapter Five: Let's Roll

**Before I begin, I would like to acknowledge the passing last month of Joseph Campanella a month ago today as of this posting. He will be missed by many for his extensive work, including voicing Professor Shepherd on _Road Rovers_ and Dr. Connors on _Spider-Man: The Animated Series_.**

Dust and gravel flew under Hunter's feet as he sped after the fleeting train. He soon regained sight of it, and in about a hundred yards he thought

"Hey Master," he called, "is my eyesight supposed to blur when I run?"

There was an uneasy silence before Shepherd's voice came through. _"No; no it isn't. There must be a small error from the mutative process."_

"Is that a problem?"

" _It will be if there's one in your vital organs."_

"Yet another unexpected twist. Bummer."

Under the circumstances, Hunter decided to just concentrate on catching up to the train.

* * *

On top of the train, Colleen, Exile, and Shag were doing their best to regroup on the less-than-stable ground beneath them.

"So," asked Exile, "how get to device and stop mutants?"

Shag pointed ahead and rumbled something. Exile looked blankly at Colleen.

"Did you understand tha-?"

"Duck!" yelled the Collie, tackling them both behind the crash-landed pods. There was little reason to ask why when, an instant later, a massive explosion hurled Exile's craft off the plane, tearing a piece out of the roof in the process.

Up ahead of them, Blitz was slowly backing away from the crowd of mutants as one of them reloaded the bazooka. "You stay back!" he shouted, baring his teeth.

One of the mutants came forward, swinging arms almost as thick as Blitz's waist. Blitz slashed back, leaving a trail of long cuts in the mutant's arm. It was only then that the Doberman noticed his new augmentations.

"Wow," he said. "I love dese new claws. Dey ah so shahp and dan-"

While he was still talking, the mutant returned the favor, batting him back to where the train was just curving around a bend.

"Aaah-AAAAHHH!" shrieked the Road Rover, tumbling over the side and catching – just barely in time – on a ladder.

"Dat was no fair!" he shouted, holding on for dear life. "I wasn't looking!"

* * *

"Impossible!" yelled General Parvo, bringing his fist down on the control panel. "There can't be other cano-sapiens!"

"Ah'm afraid there are, General," answered his assistant, suppressing her own surprise.

"Don't tell me what I know, Groomer," he snapped, tapping at the keys. When nothing happened, he scowled. "Why isn't this connecting me to the com unit in the locomotive?!"

Groomer braced herself for another angry outburst before she answered. "Ah think you just ruined the controls, sir."

There was an audible sound of the general's teeth grinding together. "Then why are you standing around? Get me the mobile unit!"

Stifling an annoyed sigh, she headed off to get the device. "Right away, sir."

Parvo, meanwhile, continued to watch the feed in a seething temper. "This can't be happening. Only one man had the technology, and he's long gone! ... or is he?"

* * *

The other Rovers had seen what was going on with Blitz, and knew they had to do something fast.

"Shag," she ordered pointing to half a wing of Exile's plane, which had somehow stayed on the train. "Throw!"

Shag obediently darted to the wreckage and lifted it over his head.

"No!" cried Exile, realizing what the sheepdog was about to do. "Throw it at-!"

Shag tried to check his throw, but lost his footing and toppled to the roof of the train car. The wing tumbled from his grasp and fell over the side.

Colleen slapped her leg in frustration. "Great. Any other ideas?"

"Running would be good-ski," Exile offered.

Colleen looked up just in time to see the bazooka pointed their way. Having seen what the missed shot at Blitz had done before, she wasn't really in a hurry to let them take another.

"Shag, look out!" she yelled as the shell hurtled toward them.

Shag dove clear as the blast tore another hole in the roof, drawing screams from inside the car.

"Oh, good," said Exile, still covering his head. "We know where prisoners are."

Colleen, also thrown flat, got to her feet. "That one's the first to go," she muttered, racing toward the mob. "Exile, check on the hostages! Shag, come with me!"

The mutants weren't expecting a frontal assault, and for a moment they stared as Colleen charged them headlong. By the time they got their wits together, she had turned her run into a dive, sprang off her hands, and drove both feet into the startled face of the one holding the bazooka. The weapon dropped, and Colleen went to work.

Exile, meanwhile, stuck his head down through the hole, drawing screams from the people crammed into the train car. One of them, braver than most, threw something in his face.

"Wait, comrades!" shouted Exile, hastily dodging. "Is dokey-okey! I am good mutant dog-man!"

They stared at him, too stunned or too afraid to speak. Under the circumstances, he was willing to call that progress.

"Anybody hurting down there?"

One by one they shook their heads. He wasn't sure what else to ask, but yells from Colleen's direction caught his ears and he drew his head out. The Collie was jumping and twisting, landing punches and kicks among the mutants at a dizzying speed. Yet at every strike she came only inches shy of being captured by one or more of the mutants.

"Shag!" shouted Exile. "Help Colleen!"

The sheep dog wanted nothing more at the moment than to wake up and find he was in a nightmare, but after glancing around he ripped a piece off the remaining aircraft and ran at the mutants. He met the crowd of them to Colleen's left, scattering several like bowling pins. Seeing the tide turn, Exile stuck his head back in the hole.

"Hold tight, comrades! We are getting you out-ski!"

It was a noble ambition. Unfortunately, he hadn't the smallest idea what the heck he was doing.

* * *

For all that the machine had given Shag super-strength, he didn't know the first thing about how to use it. After the initial rush he soon lost the piece of aircraft and quickly lost ground, barely holding the mutants at bay.

"You ah disgrace to dogs everywhere," said Blitz, climbing back up and charging past the sheepdog. Slashing and biting, he managed to drive them back briefly before falling into a plight much like Colleen's. Still he kept up the battle, and even found breath and time to berate Shag.

"This is how you fight, mop-boy! Just hit dem! Hit dem with anything you can!"

Something clicked in Shag's brain, so with a lunge he grabbed the nearest weapon.

"HEY, PUT ME DOWN!" shouted the weapon, better known as Blitz. "What do I look like, a bat?!"

Shag, however, was not about to give up on his newfound advantage. With Blitz's height added to his own arms, his reach was massively better than even the largest of the cano-mutants. As an added bonus, Blitz's flailing claws made him a veritable cat (or dog) of nine tails, and his head made a fantastic bludgeon. Just as he was beginning to warm to his work, however, Exile shouted a new order.

"Shag! Throw Blitz here!"

Shag looked over his shoulder and saw Exile waving to him. "Blitz! Need Blitz! Start rushin' comrade!"

"Dooooaaaahhhhhh…" groaned Blitz.

At that moment, Colleen managed to KO one of the mutants, which had been trying to ready a bazooka. The weapon fell at Shag's feet, and he instantly saw it as a better club than Blitz.

"Rokay!" he called, flinging Blitz toward Exile.

"DAAAH!" screamed the husky as the doberman crashed headlong into him, flattening him to the top of the train car.

Colleen made the mistake of looking over her shoulder to see what had happened. "Blimey!" she exclaimed. She was about to remonstrate Shag for his recklessness, but at that instant Shag swung the bazooka. Colleen ducked, narrowly escaping having her brains knocked out. The mutant making a grab for her wasn't so quick.

"Ruh?" rumbled Shag, seeing Colleen on her knees with her arms thrown over her head.

Peering out from under her arms, Colleen saw the mutant tumble off the train with a roar.

"Well, I suppose that makes up for it," she offered obligingly.

At that instant one of the mutants grabbed the bazooka, ramming the end of it into Shag's chest and throwing him backward. Colleen was left alone, staring up at the crowd of mutants circling around her.

"I also suppose this would be a really nice time for some backup."

* * *

Miles away in the villains' headquarters, Groomer raced back to General Parvo with their backup communications device. The cano-mutants in the locomotive already filled the screen with their hulking forms.

"Mutants!" Parvo ordered, snatching the device. "Bring me the new cano-sapiens dead or alive – and whatever you do, don't let them get the molecular stabilizer!"

"Uh, 'scuse me," chimed a voice behind the two brutes at the front. "Is he talking about this gizmo?"

The mutants turned and saw Hunter holding the red case in question. For a moment both the mutants in the car and the maniac on screen could only stare in silence.

"I think the clever phrase you're looking for," suggested Hunter, "is 'get him.'"

"GET HIM!" bellowed Parvo.

One of the mutants let out a roar and dove for Hunter, but with a quick blur he shot out of the way, letting the mutant dent the wall instead.

"Whoa, whoa, big guy," he chided. "I heard the creepy guy and he said not to let you guys get this doohickey. Or was he talking about me? Oh well. Buh-bye."

The last they saw of him was a blur shooting out the door.

By that time, the cano-mutants had begun to warm to their work. As the fledgling Rovers' skills became more familiar, the tide of the battle was starting to turn by numbers.

They were not, however, ready for a strike at their rear.

"'ScusemepardonmeonesiderushdeliverycomingthroughhiColleen!" shouted Hunter as he darted in among them. The startled mutants stumbled into one another, grabbed at empty air, and often as not fell off the train. Hunter, taking advantage of their greater size, zipped up to his fellow Rovers and snatched Collen back to buy a little breathing room. Just then the train gave a lurch which, for a moment, made both heroes and monsters pause as a scream came from the new back of the train.

Behind them, one of the cars was drawing further and further away. A moment later, Exile and Blitz poked their heads up.

"We broke car loose and- Hunter!" exclaimed Exile.

"Where have you been, puppy-boy?" demanded Blitz.

Hunter held up the case. "I got the gizmo," he boasted cheerfully.

Alas, the mutants noticed, and began to press in with new and more determined intent.

"Oh, dat's ducky," complained Blitz. "Now dey want us twice as dead."

"Huh," Hunter mused, starting to back up and then realizing they had no space to speak of. "I would not have predicted this. Hold them off, Rovers!"

Nobody questioned the command as Blitz and Exile joined the fray and everyone fought with renewed vigor. Hunter, meanwhile, contacted the professor.

"Any idea how many hostages are still on this train?" he asked.

" _News feeds say the train was carrying between two and three hundred people. I'm guessing the whole back half of it is packed."_

"How much is that?" asked Hunter.

" _You haven't freed enough, if that's what you're asking."_

Hunter wracked his brain for a plan as more mutants came climbing up out of the train.

 _Wait a second._ The idea that came to mind was incredibly stupid, but it was also the only plan he had. "Okay guys, who's the best fighter?"

"I am!" answered Blitz, slashing at a pair of hands as big as his head as they tried to grab him.

"She is," replied Exile, pointing to Colleen.

"Hey, watch who you're calling a she!" snapped Blitz, thinking Exile meant him.

Hunter took a moment to survey the team's fighting and decided Colleen was the most capable fighter. Her lithe, deft movements drove back the mutants as fast as they came, leaving some shaking their hands as if they'd been smacked with hammers while others grasped at blackened eyes.

"Alright. Shag, Blitz, Exile, back down the ladder and into the train."

"But Hunter!" protested Exile.

"Now, Exile!" barked Hunter with an air of authority he'd never imagined he had. He wondered if he was super-commanding as well as super-fast. That would sure be cool.

Without a clue what the retriever mix was up to, the three Rovers did as Hunter instructed and left him and Colleen up top, still fighting.

"Now… what?" asked the collie. She was beginning to run short of breath.

Hunter backed up a little. "You know that ladder they used going down?" he asked. "We're gonna grab it."

"How are we supposed to grab it while _hey!"_ Colleen's question turned into an indignant yell as Hunter suddenly hooked an arm around her waist and yanked him tightly to her body.

"Going down!" he yelled, and with a thrust of his legs he flung himself and Colleen off the back of the train.

More on reflex than any pretense of a plan, Colleen grabbed the top rung of the ladder as Hunter caught it in his free hand.

"Inside!" he called, and letting go of her he swung himself through a door which Exile, unfamiliar with door handles, had pragmatically torn away hinges and all. Rebounding off a car full of people (and three canines) crammed in like commuters on a Japanese subway, he caught himself on the door frame even as Exile and Shag caught him by the arms and Blitz by the uniform. Moments later, Colleen jumped in to a similar reception.

"What are you guys?" asked one of the passengers. "You're not like the monsters that took the train."

"Dat's because dey are ugly mutant monsters, and we ah perfect. At least I am," boasted Blitz.

The others all rolled their eyes.

"We are here to rescue," explained Exile. "Hunter here is leader."

"I am?" asked Hunter. "I mean, _I am."_

"WHAT?!" cried Blitz. "Who ever said he was dah leadah? Since when is he in chahge?"

"Because he's the only one who knows what the heck we're doing now," answered Colleen, folding her arms. "What exactly are we doing, Huntie?"

Hunter coughed. "Uh, that's Hunter," he corrected. "I'm guessing those mutants'll take a bit longer to get down than they did to get up. That should buy us time to head them off."

At his request, the passengers obligingly packed towards the sides to make a way for the Rovers to get through.

"Shag, you're a bit too big for this," Hunter noted. "Guard the back door and don't let those mutants in. You other guys, follow me! Let's hit the road, Rovers!"

* * *

"Where have they _gone?!"_ raged General Parvo, watching the topside cameras from his base. "This can't be happening!"

Groomer stood by, equally baffled. "D'yeh suppose they've got inside the train?" she asked.

Parvo scowled. "They're only prolonging the inevitable if they do that," he snarled. Then he rubbed his chin with one finger. "Still, I suppose we can't take chances." He pressed a button which would broadcast his voice to everyone on the train.

* * *

" _Attention all cano-mutants. Recapture the molecular stabilizer and bring me the mutants who took it – now! Nothing else matters!"_

Exile looked uneasy at the voice that had come through the train's speakers. "I am thinking that is not good news for us," he observed.

Hunter frowned. "We need to know how many cars on this train have people inside. Blitz, Exile, you guard the back of each car we enter. Colleen, you and I will take the front."

"But why?" asked Blitz.

"You'll see when we get that far – if we make it."

"And if we don't?" asked Colleen.

Hunter shrugged. "Well, then you can complain about my terrible planning."

* * *

 **O-kay, sorry for the untimely cut-off (okay, I'm not really sorry at all). So, what's Hunter planning, and how are they going to get out of this mess?**

 **I had a rough time working on this what with adjusting to a nocturnal schedule, but I'm making better use of my nights off now so I think I'll be able to manage decent productivity. However, once I post the next chapter (which may take two months; probably won't, but thought I'd give fair warning), I'm not actually sure where I'll go with this. Input and suggestions are welcome, though, so remember (as always) to fave, follow, and review.**


	6. Six: Game Over

It took some ten minutes to determine the rough population of the train: ten crammed cars' worth of passengers (counting the one they had broken loose), and way too many cano-mutants. Holing up in the first of the empty cars towards the front of the train, Hunter locked the doors and called a meeting.

"Okay, the good news is they don't seem to care about the people once we leave a car. So now that we're up here, they're not going to bother anyone else. They mostly seem to want to get this little gizmo." So saying, he held up the stabilizer.

"So we've got their undivided attention," Colleen concluded. "Lucky us."

"Dah only ones lucky are dem," Blitz boasted, pointing to a door which shook as one of the mutants tried to beat on it. "Lucky dat dey are out dere and I am in here."

"Don't be crazy," Exile told him, pushing his arm down. "They will be in here soon. Hunter, what is plan-ski?"

"Well," said Hunter, "all we have to do is get them all to the front of the train, and then cut loose the cars with us and the passengers in them. They go on ahead…"

Exile laughed. "And we are coasting to nice, easy stop," he concluded. This was followed by a slap on Hunter's back which nearly flattened the retriever. "Comrade, you are sharpest egghead in box-ski."

Hunter wobbled a little to right himself. "Uh, thanks. Whatever you said."

Shag rumbled something that sounded like a question.

"Oh, yeah. Well, getting them all go go forward is easy. All we have to do is-"

At that moment a loud crashing sound came from the back end of the car, followed by a similar one from the front. Massive hands gripped each battered door, ripped it loose with a screech of tearing metal, and threw it off the sides of the tracks. This was followed by a mutant climbing in at each end of the car.

"Blimey!" cried Colleen.

"Rohhh, hoo-hoo!" cried Shag in terror.

"Huh," Hunter remarked. "I thought the doors would keep them busy longer. Bummer."

The heroes circled back-to-back, facing their oncoming enemies.

"I'm guessing you don't have a plan for this," Colleen ventured, glancing over to Hunter.

Hunter gulped. _The one girl on the team, and she thinks I'm an idiot,_ he thought. "Uh, well, it mostly involves not dying."

"I like that part. What's next?"

"Next paht is we kick deir butts!" shouted Blitz, lunging at a mutant.

Hunter threw out a hand to stop him, but too late. "Blitz, no!"

It was like David going up against Goliath… except with David taking a stab at arm wrestling instead of a slingshot. Before Blitz could deliver a single swipe, the mutant back-handed him into a wall, pulverizing a couple of seats in the bargain.

"Doh-ohh-ohh-oahhh..." groaned the Doberman.

Fortunately, Blitz managed to come back to his senses fairly quickly – or at least, such as his senses were. Unfortunately, it took just a little less time for the mutant to pick him up by the torso in one hand and a leg in the other. Its intention was clear: it meant to tear him apart.

Hunter thought fast and pulled out the case containing the stabilizer.

"Let him go!" he demanded, holding it up. "I've got what you came for. Put him down."

Blitz cringed. "Okay, I liked dah first choice of words bettaaaaah!"

Regardless of Hunter's phraseology or Blitz's wish to be a beggar and a chooser, the mutant holding him heeded Hunter's offer. With a mighty heave it flung the doberman through the air. Hunter ducked in time, but Blitz crashed into Colleen and Exile, flattening them against Shag. The four of them could only watch as the mutants advanced on their friend.

"Huntuh!" cried Colleen in dismay, struggling to free herself from the weight and tangle of her male colleagues. "Don't give it to them!"

In answer, Hunter only gave her a grave look and tucked the case under his arm. "Sorry, guys. Guess I'm on my own now. Stick to the plan!" he shouted, rushing off up the length of the train.

Exile watched in admiration. "There is going very good dog," he eulogized their departing comrade.

While Hunter was keeping the mutants busy, a dispute broke out among the other Rovers.

"I say we stick to dah plan and break off the train," said Blitz.

"And I say you're bloomin' daft if you think we're lettin' Huntuh get himself killed," snapped Colleen, starting forward.

Exile caught her by the arm. "Hunter said stick to plan. He got-ski device from mutant bad dogs once, he can do now."

Colleen felt sick at the idea of leaving Hunter to face who-knew-what at the hands of those beasts, but she couldn't help thinking of the people in the cars behind them. As a team, they had risked their lives to get them away from the mutants.

"Alright," she agreed, "But only if a couple of us go after him. We'll stay on the front half of the train when it breaks off."

"Dah," agreed Exile. "Blitz, you and Shag stay with the back half."

"Hey, don't boss me around, fluffy dog," snarled Blitz, poking an index claw at Exile's nose. "I think I should go where the biting is."

"What, and deprive a bunch of panicked humans of your marvelous charm?" asked Colleen, folding her arms.

The remark was actually meant as sarcasm, but Blitz took the bait. "Well, since you put it like dat, fine. I'll stay."

* * *

Hunter ducked and wove through a crowd of mutants endlessly massing behind him, racing desperately for the locomotive.

"Gotcha!" he shouted, slipping through the final door and throwing the bolt shut. He couldn't resist a satisfied smirk as, having collided with the door, the foremost mutant struggled in vain with the lock. His satisfied smirk vanished, however, when a massive fist bowed in the shatter-proof glass window set in said door.

"Well, I guess this means I can forget about a victory toot-toot," the retriever mix noted as he dashed to the control panel. The mutants which had previously occupied the space had chased after him when he ended his last visit, which gave him the whole car to himself for the moment. Unfortunately, the mutants battering on the door behind him – though hampered by others crowding from behind – weren't going to give him a very long moment.

"Okay, let's see," he mused, surveying the controls. "Master, any idea which of these is the speed control?"

" _Look for a large lever that says-"_

"Oh, this one," Hunter cut him off, spying a rather large lever. Not taking the time to read the label, he pushed it forward.

Nothing happened.

"Huh. Guess someone put the speed control in backward."

" _No, Hunter! Wait!"_

It was too late. Hunter yanked back the lever and threw the brakes into full.

 _Screee-eee-eeee-eee-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!_

With an ear-splitting racket of scraping metal, the train began to grind to a rapid halt, slamming Hunter against the controls and the mutants against the swiftly crumbling door behind him.

* * *

Naturally, the sudden deceleration tumbled the Road Rovers forward too.

"What the bloomin' heck?" asked Colleen. "Exile, get off my back."

"Sorry, comrade," he offered helplessly. "I could not be helping it."

They picked themselves up and made their way forward to where Hunter was. It was hardly any time before they began to see mutants, but the whole mob seemed concentrated on getting to the front of the train.

"How are we getting past them?" asked exile.

Colleen studied the situation carefully, and realized she really had no idea what to do next. "Uh, maybe we should try to find out what's going on. I'll try to sneak up ahead. You work on trying to disconnect this car from the one behind it."

Exile nodded. "Dah, but you be careful. These evil dog-men kill you."

"They'll have to catch me first," she replied, and set off to see if they had already done so to Hunter.

* * *

Hunter groaned from his spot on the control panel as more squashed-sounding growls emerged from the broken remnants of the door. The good news was that the sudden stop and resulting forward lurch had stunned the mutants on the train. The bad news was, it had pulverized what remained between them and him.

"What happened?" he asked.

" _Brake lever,"_ explained the professor. _"_ _Are you alright?"_

"I think so, but how do I speed this thing up?"

" _Put the last lever back where it was and find another one. It should have a triangular gauge next to it."_

"What's a triangular gauge?" asked Hunter, sitting back down and releasing the brake.

The answer was preceded by a weary sigh. _"_ _Something that's pointed at one end and wide at the other. The wide end should be forward."_

"Oh, this thing. Alright, here goes!"

The frontmost pair of mutants had just managed to pry themselves free of the wreckage and their comrades, and made to spring for Hunter as he grasped the speed control.

"See ya!"

The rest of the mutants never knew what hit them.

"Woo-hoohoohoo!" cried Hunter as the train blasted forward. "Too cool!"

As the whole train shot forward, several mutants tumbled back along the length of the cars. In the process, they came across Exile, who was kneeling one car back and struggling with the disconnecting mechanism. They didn't understand for a moment what he was doing, but they did remember that he was one of their enemies.

"Oh, no," groaned Exile. Jumping back a car, he continued to struggle with the connection. "Bolshoi! Start… Russian!" He grunted and strained at the mechanism, but for all his efforts it stayed stubbornly put. He was still gripping it when one of the mutants punched him, sending him hurtling backward.

"GAH!" he yelped, rolling down the center aisle of an empty car. Head spinning, he sat up and dimly realized that the mutant which had hit him looked strangely far away. As his senses cleared, he realized that it was also scrambling to keep its grip on the back of the train – or at least, what was _now_ the back of the train. The mutant's own punch had given him the extra oomph he needed to yank the mechanism loose.

"Doh," he grunted, rubbing where it had hit. "Almost worth trouble. Now, that just-"

All at once his heart dropped like a ton of bricks. Hunter and Colleen were on the front part of the train, trapped with the cano-mutants!

* * *

Exile was actually only half-right. As soon as the train took off at rocket speed, Hunter had jumped out and used his super-speed to blunt the impact of his tumble. Clutching the device to his body like a football, he watched the train go by – and thought his eyes must be playing tricks on him again. He could have sworn he saw Colleen up on top of the train.

At a closer look, he realized it was Colleen. When the train lurched ahead, some of the mutants had spotted her creeping among the seats. They had tried to catch her, and she had bought herself some time by slipping between cars and up onto the roof.

Unfortunately, at about two minutes max that bit of time bought was not exactly the bargain of a lifetime.

"Well, this day just gets more fun by the minute," remarked Hunter wryly, dashing after the train.

"Aieeya, _Akita!_ " yelled Colleen, driving her heel into a mutant's pelvis. This was followed by a brutal uppercut and a roundhouse kick, each accompanied by a yell. "Sit up! Roll over! Play dead!" she finished as the beast toppled. More were coming, however, and she was quickly losing ground – or roof. Ground was one thing she did _not_ want to think about at the moment.

"Colleen!" yelled Hunter, racing after the train. The thing had to be going over a hundred miles an hour, and even he was struggling to keep up. His vision was doing that blurry thing again, his throat felt like sandpaper, and his lungs felt like they were on fire.

To make matters worse, it seemed as if she couldn't hear a word he said. The wind whipping past blew everything right back in his face – along with a shrill "ay-yiyi-yi-yi!" she let loose as she pulverized the face of what must have been some kind of spaniel once.

 _Gotta get her attention,_ he thought. Struggling to focus his eyes, he wound up and threw the only thing he had: the case housing the stabilizer.

He could have stood to aim better. The case knocked into the backs of her ankles, causing her to stumble. With a yell, she and the case fell from the back of the train.

Time seemed to go strangely slow as Hunter watched his teammate fall. He was going fast, but he'd lost precious inches throwing the case; inches that could mean death to Colleen if he didn't do something.

Reaching out, he managed to put on a last frantic spurt. With a _thud_ he felt as well as heard, he caught her across his outstretched arms, staggered under the weight, and barely managed to avoid a tumble that would have broken their necks. Struggling with fatigue, he slowed to a stop and dropped to his knees, unable to keep her from tumbling out of his arms.

"Whoo," he panted, wincing at a pain in his right shin. "I'd really like to never do that again."

Colleen, sprawled across the tracks, managed to get up and gape at Hunter. "What the bloomin' heck was that all for?" she asked, putting a hand to her side.

He cringed. "Uh, trying to get your attention?" he asked with a shrug.

Judging by the look on her face, she was seriously thinking about clobbering him.

"I did just save your life," he pointed out.

She propped her wrists on her hips in annoyance. "After almost killing me," she pointed out. As an afterthought, though, she held out her hand to give him a lift up. "Thanks, Huntie. Guess I owe you one. Where's the stabilizer anyway?"

It hit him like a flying brick that he'd forgotten all about it. "Oh, uh…"

The search was short-lived. A broken case on the tracks some way behind them revealed the equally decimated pieces of the once-powerful device.

"Oops." Hunter turned and shrugged helplessly. "Well, he did say not to let them get their hands on it."

Colleen rolled her eyes, but gave him a hearty smack on the shoulder. "Y'know, Huntie, you're alright."

"Ow. Uh, thanks." He reached up to rub the sore shoulder. "By the way, why do you keep calling me that?"

"What, Huntie? Y'know, Hunter, Huntie. It's your new nickname. Don't you like it?"

Hunter thought about how it would sound if everyone called him 'Huntie.' "Uh, let's keep it between us, alright?"

She made a show of thinking about it. "I guess I can handle that."

* * *

At a radioed warning from Professor Shepherd, the Rovers hid out in the woods until the man who had rescued Hunter from the pound showed up.

"How'd you get here?" asked Hunter, pointing at him in surprise.

The man regarded him with an enigmatic expression. "I get to a lot of places," was his sole reply. "Right now I need to get you five out of here before someone sees you."

"But why?" asked Exile. "We are heroes. We save day, we-"

"You're a six-foot-tall dog-man who talks," the man answered simply. "Forgive my rudeness, but the world's not ready for you yet. The fact is you're in it, though, and there's a lot of good you can do – _if_ you don't get stuck in some laboratory somewhere. I'm here to see to that, and to pay back an old debt to Professor Shepherd."

They all looked at one another. "Well, guys?" asked Hunter.

Colleen shrugged. "Well, seeing as our own rides are out, I don't see any other way of getting 'ome."

Exile nodded. "I trust this comrade. He smells like honesty."

"Pretty sure that's Earl Gray," Hunter replied.

Blitz regarded the man skeptically. "How ca we be sure you're on our side?" he asked.

The stranger jerked a thumb towards the area around the disconnected train cars, which was a buzzing hive of activity as rescuers and army personnel swarmed about.

"Because if I wanted to take you by force, I could just call all two hundred soldiers over there to come and do it."

This didn't impress Blitz, but it won Shag over, and Blitz decided he didn't feel like being outvoted. "Okay, we'll go," he consented.

The man led them to a truck parked a short distance away, out back of an abandoned factory. "In here," he instructed, opening the back. "Sit tight. No talking if we stop, and no sticking your heads out."

"Does he have to be so bossy?" asked Blitz.

The Rovers piled in and took seats in the canvas-covered back.

"By the way," asked Hunter as their friend closed them in, "who are you anyway?"

A mysterious look crossed the man's face, and then he threw them a stiff salute. "Friend of the Professor," he answered. "General Andrew Malone."

As the tarp fell across the opening, Malone saw Hunter throwing him a salute in return.

 **Wait, an OC this late in the game? Yep, I know. Don't worry, he has a part to play yet. The question is, what exactly is his role in this, and whose side is he on anyway? Meanwhile, what's happened to Groomer and General Parvo?**

 **Well, unfortunately you'll have to wait to find out. The bad news is we're not quite at the end yet. I decided to stretch this fic out just a little longer because I'm looking to get this story some cover art. I have one artist in consideration (and since I don't have a yes or no yet, the position's still open), and figure if I wrap up with a new cover art I can give the selected artist some advertising "on the ground floor" (so to speak) in exchange. So until next month, hang in there (and maybe get out those sketchpads).**

 **Also, my three seasons job is opening up again, so I'm not sure what kind of time table I'll be operating by in the future. A chapter every month was admittedly a bit much, so I may change it up as I go along. I do plan on continuing the project, however, and already have some scenes written for the next story. You folks out there who take an interest in Colleen's love life really ought to love this. So stay tuned!**


	7. Chapter Seven: Where to go From Here

Back at the base, Professor Shepherd received the Rovers with no small relief.

"You did well today, Rovers. You've got a long road ahead, but you did well."

"Long road?" asked Colleen. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm plenty tuckered already."

Hunter nodded. "Not to complain, but I'm wiped out too – and we took care of the cano-guys just fine. Not bad for the first time out, huh?"

Shepherd nodded. "As I said, you did well, and I am grateful. You should rest well tonight, but you'll need to do a few exercises to get used to your new bodies, and I'll need to run some tests to make sure they're working properly. This may have been your trial run, but it was also the cano-mutants'. General Parvo won't give up so easily, and his next mutants will be more dangerous."

Shag whimpered, and Blitz asked what they all were thinking. "What exactly have we signed up for?"

"Don't worry, Blitz," the professor assured him, "I intend to make sure that you're as ready as possible for whatever happens. Now come. It's pretty late for a full tour of the base now, but I'll show you your rooms and the more basic facilities on base. Rest well, Rovers; you'll need it."

Getting the Rovers settled in was fairly simple and straightforward. Despite having slept on the ride back to base, they were all more than willing to settle down - though, with their unfamiliar builds, it would take some time for each of them to get comfortable enough to sleep.

Shepherd, on the other hand, returned to the room where he had first met the Rovers - what might be called the Command Center - to find Malone still waiting for him.

"How bad is the situation?" he asked.

Malone frowned and folded his arms. "Well, turns out the maniac running this freak show cut or jammed all the communication lines before he made his attack, and the cell phone service was spotty along the train line. He wanted witnesses, but he didn't want them talking too soon."

Shepherd nodded. "So the world doesn't know about cano-sapiens yet," he reasoned hopefully.

"The Pentagon's going to do it's best, I'm guessing," Malone agreed, "but you realize you've left quite the mess for us to clean up."

The professor nodded. He turned his gaze down the hallway toward the Rovers' quarters. "I suppose I have, but you know I couldn't just sit back and do nothing."

"I know," was the answer. "It would be a lot easier, though, if-"

"No," came the quick answer. Only a trained ear could have caught the fear hidden under the firm, decisive tone. "And you know why I can't. I'm still not sure it's even right for me to play God like this, but I know the technology is too dangerous to entrust to anyone else."

Malone sighed, but he really hadn't expected anything different. Professor Shepherd was, as he well knew, a man of principle and decision. "I understand," he admitted, "but it won't be easy to explain this to the folks at the Pentagon."

Shepherd nodded. "I'll assume full responsibility for the matter," he promised.

After a long silence, Malone got back in his truck and drove away.

* * *

Over the teeming search of Coast Guard, police, and army personnel, two helicopters met. A man leaned out of one with a bullhorn, hanging onto a grip inside with his other hand.

"Attention unidentified chopper!" he called. "By order of the United States Armed Forces, this is a restricted area! Leave immediately or you will be fired upon!"

Inside the chopper, General Parvo growled from the back. "Do as he says, Groomer," he commanded. "There's nothing more we can do here."

"Aye, sir." She set the controls to hover unattended for a moment, then leaned out the side and saluted to the other chopper. Returning to the controls, she brought theirs around and headed directly away from the incident.

"What about the cano-mutants?" she asked.

Parvo spat. "Let them rot for all I care. Eventually they'll return to their canine forms and be of no more concern. Those other mutants, though, they have me worried."

"There's only one man on earth who could be responsible," she answered, affirming his unspoken suspicion. "But Ah thought he was long dead."

"Yes, well, we'll have to settle that little oversight, won't we-he-ha-hach-hach-hach…!" Parvo broke into a coughing fit. "Losenge!"

Groomer drew a small, paper-wrapped pill from her pocket and threw it back to Parvo. "Ah ought tae make some sort of dispenser for those," she noted.

Parvo tore the wrapping off the cough drop, popped it into his mouth, and paused a moment before answering. "Yes, well, Shepherd's mutants may have won this battle, but I will have my revenge!"

His fist came down, demolishing the arm rest of his secluded seat in the back of the aircraft. Groomer winced at the thought of the damage, but then smiled as she pictured the future ahead for those interfering dogs.

"Aye, sir."

 **Aaaand, cut! That's a wrap, folks! Episode One of Road Rovers Rebooted!**

 **For fans of the original, don't worry about the changed ending. I dare say I'll find a way for the Rovers to slip Parvo a bomb sooner or later.**

 **My thanks to everyone who offered such encouraging feedback on the story. I'll keep my plans for episode Two to myself, but it should be good and will probably give more attention to developing the main characters. I'm still undecided as to when to bring Muzzle into the mix (since without him, certain episodes such as "Storm From The Pacific" and "Still a Few Bugs in the System" would be quite different), but ideally I'd like to give him his own all-new introductory plot.**

 **My apologies that this chapter was kind of truncated. I meant to develop it more, but life got crazy and then I realized I was overdue to post. Not to worry; once I get to the next one I'll be sure to weave in the material I would have used here.**


End file.
